


Leaving Jim Ellison, Never Easy

by PsychGirl (snycock)



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Angst, Drama, First Times, M/M, Romance, Song Lyrics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-18
Updated: 2013-08-18
Packaged: 2017-12-11 10:46:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/797714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snycock/pseuds/PsychGirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the press conference, Blair feels like he has no choice but to leave - until someone changes his mind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Leaving Jim Ellison, Never Easy

Jim and Blair belong to Paramount and Pet Fly, and all R.E.M lyrics belong to Berry, Buck, Mills, and Stipe.

Written for SenseXangstRevisited November 2007 dues. I owe a huge debt of gratitude to Sheila, T.W. Lewis, Skye, and Shiredancer on the SenBetas list for their very, very helpful suggestions and comments, and for rescuing me from my misguided attempt to write a songfic. This story is much, much better for their input, but all mistakes are still mine.

The title (adapted) and two lines in the story are taken from "Leaving New York, Never Easy" by R.E.M.

  
***

Blair folded the last shirt and laid it on top of the pile, zipping the duffle closed. He glanced around the tiny room, checking to see if he'd forgotten anything. He'd already packed the rest of his belongings, meager as they were, in his car. The nomadic life of a student had taught him not to acquire too many possessions, but for nearly four years, this place had been his... his...

_Home_ , he told himself viciously. _Say it. Home. It was your home, but it's not anymore. It can't be. You saw to that_.

He sighed heavily and ran a hand through his hair, hauling the duffle off his bed and placing it next to the door. He could hear the faint murmur of the television, out in the living room. It sounded like Jim was watching Sportscenter.

His stomach clenched in sick misery. He knew that Jim didn't understand why he was leaving. They'd argued about it, going around and around in circles, with no resolution, no ground gained on either side. Finally Jim had simply retreated behind a shield of cold civility. It made being in the loft about as comfortable as walking on hot coals or lying on a bed of nails, but Blair endured it. He figured it was a reasonable penance for all the chaos he'd brought into Jim's life recently.

_You could just tell him the truth,_ a part of him suggested.

Blair snorted. _No. I can't._

_Maybe he feels--_

_No._

The problem was he no longer had a place at Jim's side. He wasn't a student anymore - the press conference in which he'd immolated his graduate career, his research, and his good name had ended that - so his observer status was defunct. He certainly wasn't needed as a Guide anymore - what was it that Jim had said at the rally? _I know the drill, Chief._ And as much as he appreciated the offer, there was no way he could become a cop, not even with the lure of being Jim's permanent and official partner.

At one time, he'd thought his role might expand to include lover. Waking up in the hospital, after the drowning, he'd had an epiphany. The vision he'd had - the panther and wolf merging - had made him face the fact that he loved Jim Ellison. Was _in love_ with Jim Ellison. When Jim had revealed that he'd shared the vision - well, surely that was a sign, and it would only be a matter of time before they got things straightened out between them. He knew Jim was uncomfortable with the spiritual side of being a Sentinel, but even he couldn't ignore that powerful a message.

Blair smiled ruefully to himself. On the contrary, it seemed that Jim's powers of avoidance were even stronger than he'd thought. As time went on, he'd started feeling less and less confident that Jim shared his feelings. Alex he could explain away as Sentinel-induced weirdness. But Jim's behavior towards him during the Ventriss mess was a different matter. Then there was Veronica. And finally, as if he'd needed any further proof, there was Jim's reaction to the release of his dissertation. Jim's lack of trust in him, his flat refusal to listen or talk to him, was the death knell as far as Blair was concerned for his hopes of a deeper relationship between them.

_A leopard can't change his spots_ , he told himself firmly. _Or a panther, for that matter. You were wrong. That's all_.

His cell phone shrilled, and he checked the caller ID. He'd refused any and all requests for follow-up interviews after the press conference, but some reporters didn't give up that easy. The caller was Mary, however; one of the few grad students from Rainer who was still talking to him. "Hey, Mary," he answered.

"Hi, Blair!" she chirped. "A bunch of us are going out drinking. Want to come?"

"No thanks, Mary. I'm leaving early in the morning."

"Leaving? Where are you going?"

He sighed. "I'm...uh...well, I'm not really sure yet. South, probably. See where I end up."

"Aw, Blair...." Her voice was sad, but then brightened almost immediately. "Well, then, all the more reason you should come with us. You need one last night out in Cascade. And I want to buy you a drink."

He drew breath to turn her down, but, all of a sudden, the thought of spending another night in the Cold War that had become his relationship with Jim was too much. If he could just get out for a little while, be around people, absorb some of the liveliness and cheerfulness of others, maybe he could find a little equilibrium. Maybe he could find a way to leave tomorrow without trashing his friendship with Jim. Maybe, with a little luck, and in a dozen years or so, they'd be able to get back to the point they'd been at before he'd heard Sid Graham's name.

"Okay," he capitulated, "where should I meet you?" He wrote down the directions she gave him, and, yanking his jacket off the chair, went out into the living room.

Jim was sitting on the couch, dressed in old sweats, watching TV and drinking a beer. He didn't give any sign that he had heard Blair emerge from his room.

"I'm going out," Blair said.

"Fine," Jim replied in a clipped tone, no warmth in it at all.

He turned to look at Jim from the doorway. Jim was pale, dark circles under his eyes, heavy stubble across his cheek. He looked as if he hadn't been sleeping well. It made Blair's heart ache. He longed to be able to do or say something that would ease Jim's mind, make him feel better, but he'd tried and tried, and now he didn't think there was anything that could bridge the gulf between them. "I won't be late," he said. "Gotta get an early start tomorrow."

"Whatever."

Blair sighed and left.

* * *

The bar was dark; Blair sat at a table in the back, unseen, and nursed his beer. Mary, after several unsuccessful attempts to get him to join in, had gone off with her friends to dance. The music was fairly standard New Wave, pop-type stuff, easy enough for Blair to ignore.

_This,_ he thought, _was a mistake._ Instead of inspiring and energizing him, being around this many people having fun was just depressing. He couldn't stop thinking about Jim, couldn't stop going over the events of the past four years in his mind, wondering how it was that he'd gotten things so wrong, wondering if there was something he could have done that would have made it turn out differently.

Whenever he'd thought about his future, he'd always seen Jim in it. I mean, he wasn't foolish enough to believe that Jim would always want him living in the room under his stairs, but he'd always believed Jim would be a part of his life, somehow. _Guess I was wrong_ , he thought morosely.

He knew he'd never meet anyone like Jim again. Not just with enhanced senses, but in terms of the kind of person he was. Jim was a hero, someone who devoted his life to helping others. He was loyal, honorable, caring, strong, solid...not to mention gorgeous. He'd given Blair a home, put up with Blair's tests, worried about him, trusted him - well, most of the time, anyway. He'd been the best friend Blair that had ever had. No one was ever going to be able to fill that place in his life. He took a long swallow of beer, already feeling the loss of Jim's presence as a dull ache in his chest.

What would have been the worst thing that could have happened if he had told Jim how he felt? Jim wouldn't have been interested, obviously, but he wouldn't have thrown him out or anything, would he? He might have been upset, at first, that Blair hadn't been honest with him, but eventually he would have gotten over it, right? Eventually they would have come to terms with it, maybe even laughed about it.

With startling clarity, as if someone had called his name in a noisy room, the lyrics of the song the band was playing intruded into his awareness.

_It's easier to leave than to be left behind/Leaving was never my proud_

Guilt clenched at his heart like a fist. _I'm not proud of the fact that I'm leaving_ , he thought irritably. _But what else can I do? I've caused enough trouble for Jim already. And there's no reason for me to stay._

But he couldn't help thinking about all the people who had left Jim. His mother. His men. Danny. Jack. Bud. Carolyn. Lila. Veronica. Incacha. And now him. He was taking the easy way out, leaving Jim behind once again.

He groaned, burying his face in his hands, misery like a stone in his chest. He knew he couldn't stay. But it was breaking his heart to leave.

The least he could do, he decided, was to be honest with Jim about his feelings and why he had to leave. Maybe he could make Jim understand. But even if he couldn't, then at least things would be clear between them. And then maybe his leaving wouldn't be so hard for either of them.

He took a deep breath, collecting himself, gathering his resolve. Draining his beer, he stood and made his way towards the exit and his showdown with Jim.

* * *

Blair pushed the door to the loft open slowly and peered in. The room was dark, although enough ambient light came in through the windows to allow him to see dim outlines of furniture. It looked like Jim had already gone to bed.

He hesitated, torn. He didn't want to wake Jim, especially if he was finally getting some sleep. But he could feel his determination ebbing. He wasn't sure he'd be able to handle having this conversation in the morning.

But it looked like he was going to have to, because he really didn't want to get Jim up just to give him bad news. His decision made, he headed towards his bedroom. He'd get a few hours of sleep - well, try to, anyway - and then get up early and finish packing the car. By the time he was ready to leave Jim should be awake, and they could talk then.

"Blair." Jim's voice, quiet, from somewhere in back of him.

He spun around, his heart thudding against his ribs. "Jesus Christ, Jim! Scare the hell out of me, why don't you?"

Jim didn't say anything, and Blair reached for the lamp on the end table near him. A hand, the grip like steel, wrapped around his wrist and stopped him. "No," Jim said.

"It's, uh...it's kinda dark for me," Blair said.

"In the middle of the night? Without even saying goodbye?"

Blair felt the blood rush to his cheeks as he realized Jim wasn't talking about the visibility. "No, no, I...I wasn't..." he stuttered, unable to form a coherent response. But he could understand why Jim might think that he would try to sneak out, avoid a confrontation. _Leaving was never my proud_ , he thought miserably, feeling his throat tighten.

"I don't want you to go," Jim said, his voice low and taut.

He took a deep breath. No time like the present. "Look, Jim, I have to--"

"I've been thinking." Jim interrupted him, his voice moving closer. "I remembered something you said, once. And I realized something." He was right in front of Blair now; his outline barely visible, his face still in shadow. "This...this thing between us, it's not just about friendship."

Blair was frozen where he stood, speechless, breathless.

"It's about love." Strong, familiar hands framed his face, long fingers sliding through his hair. A calloused thumb tenderly caressed his bottom lip. "I just didn't get it before."

And then Jim's mouth was on his, warm and firm, surprisingly gentle. A shiver rippled through him from head to toe. His heart soared, suddenly, almost painfully, his hands coming up to clutch at Jim's biceps. God, could this be real? He'd wanted this for so long.... An involuntary groan escaped him, and Jim deepened the kiss, his tongue teasing lightly across Blair's lips.

Desire flared in Blair, blazing across his nerves like fireworks. He returned Jim's kiss fiercely, the taste and texture driving him out of his head with need. He didn't even realize that he was moving until Jim's back hit the door with a dull thump.

He fumbled at Jim's sweats with trembling hands, pushing them and Jim's boxers down over his hips. He couldn't see a thing, but he didn't need to. His hand found Jim's cock unerringly, brushing lightly over the damp head, taking a firmer grip as he stroked the hot, silken length. He groaned again, the growing stiffness in his own pants making his head swim.

"Oh, _Christ_ , Blair," Jim hissed. He grabbed Blair's wrists and pulled his arms around behind him, pinning them with one hand in the small of Blair's back. With the other hand he undid Blair's jeans and worked them down. Blair helped, wriggling his hips until his jeans and boxers were pooled around his ankles.

Jim pulled him close with the hand in the small of his back, shifting his stance slightly so that their cocks were trapped between their bodies. He let go of Blair's wrists, his hands sliding down to cup Blair's ass, and gave a slow, gentle thrust of his hips.

Blair gasped, the sensation of their cocks rubbing against each other and against their bodies sending an electric current of pleasure sizzling up his spine. He thought he heard Jim chuckle, but he couldn't be sure. Splaying his hands against Jim's chest for leverage, he rocked his hips, matching his rhythm to Jim's, the slow, sweet slide of skin against heated, slick skin maddening, dizzying. He wanted it to go on forever, but he couldn't wait to get to the end.

He felt Jim's body shudder and convulse under his hands. Jim cried out, a wild, primal sound, and that broke Blair's tenuous control. Humping wildly, he buried his face against Jim's shoulder and lost himself in his own climax.

For long moments he simply lay against Jim, muscles limp, trying to catch his breath. Jim was doing the same; he could feel the rapid rise and fall of his chest, could feel one of Jim's hands tracing small, aimless patterns on his back.

"I gotta tell you," Jim said finally, his voice low and husky, "that was not exactly what I had in mind for our first time."

"Oh, no?" Blair said, smiling.

"No. I had a cunning plan to get you upstairs and into my bed."

"What happened?"

"I got distracted."

Blair laughed, his smile growing. He found he couldn't stop it, though; it stretched just a little too far and suddenly he was fighting tears, his limbs shaking.

"Blair?" Jim's voice was concerned, now.

"No, it's okay, it's just...I could use some light." His voice trembled as he tried to maintain his composure.

"Sorry," Jim said, his voice tinged with remorse, "I forget." Blair heard a click, and the light on the table next to the door came on, painting Jim's face with warm, golden light. He blinked at Blair, his mouth curved in a tender smile, and wrapped his hand gently in the hair at the nape of Blair's neck. "Better?"

Jim's hand in his hair was like an anchor for Blair, and he felt the panic recede. "Yeah," he sighed. "Sorry. This is...this is just a little surreal." He took a deep breath. "How long...how long have you..."

"...felt like this?" Jim finished. He shook his head slowly. "I don't know. Better to ask how long I've been fighting it - since the fountain, for sure. Maybe longer."

"Why?"

"I was pretty sure I'd fuck it up." He gave Blair a self-deprecating look. "Still not entirely sure I won't, given the chance. But I figured since you were leaving anyway, I might as well go for broke." He paused, his smile fading. "Although you haven't said how you feel about all this..."

Blair snorted. "Oh, right, did I forget to mention I frot with all my roommates? It's nothing special, no big deal...." Grinning, he ducked his head to avoid the cuff Jim had aimed at him. He could feel the rumble of Jim's laughter in his chest, but when he looked back up at Jim, the fear and vulnerability he saw in his eyes made his heart twist.

"I am good with this," he whispered, reaching a hand up to cup Jim's face. The bristles on Jim's cheek tickled his palm, and he stroked his thumb across Jim's mouth, trying to soften the grim line set there. "So good with this. I've been wanting this for so long...I was trying to get up the courage to tell you, but you beat me to it." He slid his hand around to the back of Jim's neck and pulled him gently into a kiss, filling it with all the love and reassurance he could muster.

He felt Jim's hand tighten in his hair, felt his mouth ease into the kiss, and he smiled. Joy filled him like a mountain stream, bright and bubbling, until he felt as though he would overflow.

Sighing, he pulled back, tried to organize his thoughts. "So, here's what I propose. We clean ourselves up and get some sleep, then tomorrow morning you help me unpack my car and I cook you breakfast. Sound like a plan?"

"Hmmm." Jim looked pensive. "I don't know. I think we should shoot for lunch. I think you're going to be staying up pretty late tonight."

"Oh, really?" Blair said, raising an eyebrow. "What makes you say that?"

"Let me give you a hint," Jim breathed, leaning in for another kiss.

* * *

End

Leaving Jim Ellison, Never Easy by PsychGirl  
Author and story notes above.

Disclaimer: _The Sentinel_ is owned etc. by Pet Fly, Inc. These pages and the stories on them are not meant to infringe on, nor are they endorsed by, Pet Fly, Inc. and Paramount.


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